


Too Much Texas

by LaughingStones



Category: Motorcity (Cartoon)
Genre: (is basically magic), Bad Flirting, Cartoon Science, First Time, M/M, Texasifying Texas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 00:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: Texas gets hit by a weird science ray, but it totally doesn't affect him!Until it does, and Chuck is left dealing with the pieces.





	Too Much Texas

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to SerotoninShift for the beta, and fixing the beginning and end!

Texas and the Burners are tearing through Kane Co R&D with a troop of Elites after them, people in white coats diving under desks and tables to get out of the way. Dutch is in the lead and flies around a corner, Texas close on his heels, and a lab-coated man gets out of their way barely in time.

“No!” the man yelps as Mike and Chuck come around the corner, “It's unstable, don't--” which is when Chuck totally runs into the machine the man was messing with. The machine jostles, makes a rising whine, and a blue beam of light snaps out of it, falling squarely on Texas as he slows down to make sure the other guys keep up. It feels prickly and weird, makes him jerk all over, stumbling, but it's fine, the Elites haven't caught up yet and the man against the wall is just staring at him, open-mouthed.

“Did it _fail?_” the guy mutters to himself, and Texas doesn't have time for nerds being weird, so he turns and keeps running after Chuck and Dutch.

“You okay, buddy?” Mike says, keeping pace with him.

“Fine, awesome,” Texas pants, “it didn't do anything, come on let's go!”

“All right, cool,” Mike says in relief, and they shut up and run.

Outside the Tower, Julie does some nerd stuff from her car that gets the bad guys distracted long enough Texas and the other can get out, and then escaping takes the same sorts of awesome shenanigans as usual, but eventually they get back to the hideout, mission successful! Texas getting hit with a weird science beam is totally not a problem, since it hasn't done anything.

“Okay but I mean,” Chuck says, eyeing Texas, “we can't just _assume_ that, there are a ton of brilliant people in that department, that beam could do _anything_. You can't just go slamming into delicate machinery like that, dude! Now you might start, like, dissolving in a minute.”

Okay so maybe Texas was the one who smacked into the thing while he was getting around it, it shouldn't have been in his way like that. “Pshh, naw,” Texas says, crossing his beefy arms. “Texas is _way_ too bodaciously muscular to dissolve.”

Chuck is looking pissy and annoyed, and Mike squints from him to Texas and then nods to himself. “Okay, so Chuck, how ‘bout you keep an eye on him for a while, buddy? Just to make sure the beam didn't do anything bad. Thanks, I got some errands to run!” And before Chuck can protest, Mike smiles, claps him on the shoulder, and is out of the room.

Chuck huffs, glares at Texas, and sits down on the edge of the couch, pulling up a couple of screens to start typing. Texas tries a few kicks and some shadowboxing to see if maybe Chuck wants to admire his moves or muscles or anything, but he doesn't look up even when Texas yells and does a sweet flying kick. Well, _fine_, then. Chuck can just keep staring at his stupid screens and Texas is gonna go somewhere else. It's not like Big Texas needs a _babysitter_ or nothing. He turns to walk out, and staggers halfway to the door. All of a sudden he feels kind of… funny.

He staggers again and goes to his knees as Chuck looks up with a startled yelp, and then things kind of… go away.

*

Chuck is hovering over Texas’s prone form, heart in his throat, wondering if he should run for Jacob or the first aid kit or just scream, when Texas _wavers_ weirdly, and then suddenly there are two Texases lying there. Chuck shrieks, and they both twitch and groan.

Panting, Chuck stares. One of the Texases looks kind of… bleached, his jumpsuit more dark grey than black, and the other doesn't have a hat. When they both waver this time and a third Texas appears, Chuck manages to bite back another shriek and skitters back to a safe distance. If new Texases keep spawning at the same rate, the room is going to get crowded really fast.

God, this is so typical. If they ever needed more copies of a Burner, Texas is _not_ the one Chuck would choose.

All three Texases shift, grunting and groaning, pushing up on their elbows, and no further copies appear, thank god. Grey-jumpsuit Texas is the only one with a hat. The third one to appear has a different color-shift going on, the flames on his jumpsuit white instead of deep magenta, and his black hair falls loose around his face instead of being slicked back like the others’. The one that looks the most like regular Texas has his jumpsuit unzipped, stripped down and tied around his waist, and it takes Chuck a second to realize _his_ jumpsuit is weird too, the body turned deep red with black flames along the sleeves.

“Oh my god,” Chuck says, high and shaky as he looks from one Texas to another. All three are climbing to their feet, and he has trouble dealing with _one_ Texas, much less three, this is _not ideal_. “Is--what happened to real Texas? Is he _gone?_”

“I _am_ real Texas, _nerd_,” the Texas with the hat says, glaring at Chuck with clenched fists. Wide-eyed, Chuck takes a step back, breath coming faster. Texas is often a jerk, but Chuck is pretty sure he doesn't usually _try_ to be threatening. Right now this version of him looks _dangerous_.

“Whoa,” red-jumpsuit Texas says, putting a hand to his head and frowning at the wall. “Texas feels _weird_.”

The third Texas looks at the other two and down at himself, eyes almost as wide as Chuck's, and says nothing.

“Okay,” Chuck says, keeping a wary eye on the jerk Texas with the hat, “none of you look right, so that beam _did_ something that made… normal Texas… turn into you guys. So--”

“So wait,” says red-jumpsuit Texas loudly, “Texas has superpowers now, right?” He looks at the other two Texases, and Chuck thinks that of the three of them, he acts the closest to normal, too. “...All the Texases have 'em, I guess! Did we get different powers or what, cuz it'd be totally lame if they're just the same one like three times--”

“You did not get _superpowers,”_ Chuck says in exasperation, because there's no reason that machine would turn one person into three different versions and _also_ give them any weird powers. Also he's going to be pissed if any version of Texas gets superpowers that are real instead of just in his own head.

“How do _you_ know?” Jerk Texas snaps at him. “You didn't get doubles, so it ain't like you're suddenly psychic or something and just know this junk!” He takes a step towards Chuck and Chuck shrinks back, huddled into himself. “So zip it, Skinny!”

“Hey,” Almost Normal Texas says, frowning. “Not cool.”

“It’s totally cool!” Jerk Texas insists. “It’s fine, I’m not freakin' outor anything! Texas doesn’t need nerds talkin’ at him, we can handle this on our own!” 

Chuck takes a shaky breath. “No!” he says squeakily. “Because we have to figure this out, we have to _think_ about it and you--you guys--” he looks at the three of them, “--you aren't the best at that!”

Jerk Texas looms at him again, muscles flexing menacingly under his grey jumpsuit. “Are you callin’ Texas _dumb?_” he growls.

“No! I'm just saying--”

“Well _shut up!_ Nobody wants to listen to you bein’ a nerd!”

The third Texas, who's been un-Texasly quiet thus far, hands working at his sides, abruptly stomps forward and shoves Jerk Texas hard in the chest.

“Lay _off!_” he snarls. “Bein’ an asshole isn't gonna fix this weird junk, it's just gonna make people hate you! And _me_, cuz I'm you, and I don't want Chuck hatin’ me!”

Jerk Texas throws a quick look at Chuck, almost seeming taken aback, before turning back to face down his opponent. “Like it'd even matter if he did!” he blusters. “He--he's a nerd, he's totally uncool, who cares if he doesn't like us?”

“_I_ do!” the quiet, protective Texas yells. “He's my friend and I like him and he's supposed to like me and he _doesn't_, and it's _your fault!_” He takes a swing, and that's all it takes before there's a fight going on in the middle of the room.

Chuck backs up against a wall, arms folded over his chest, eyes round under his bangs. He's not sure what happened in the creation of Quiet Texas, but something clearly went screwy, because the real Texas _definitely_ doesn't care what Chuck thinks of him.

Almost Normal Texas sidles over next to him.

“Okay, Texas is kinda confused,” he says, “but hey--pretty cool show, right? Look at those sweet moves.”

“Right, uh-huh,” Chuck says in a high voice.

They watch the fight for a minute. Chuck has to admit the moves are impressive, but it's unnerving the way the two combatants are _going after_ each other. This isn't a friendly spar, they're trying to _hurt_ each other, faces twisted in dark, identical scowls.

If Chuck had ever, for reason of being high or something, imagined how three Texases would react to each other, he's pretty sure it would've been a lot of enthusiastic high-fiving and admiring each other's muscles. This is just… bizarre. (He's not even thinking about how they got into it over _him_, that's just a little too brain-bending.)

“Guess it's not superpowers,” Almost Normal Texas says glumly, and before Chuck can ask what tipped him off, he plunges into the frey, yelling. “Cut it out!” he hollers, countering blows from both sides. “This is _dumb_, and Texas isn't dumb! Lay the heck off, you guys! Or--you me’s!”

It takes a moment, but they finally get into a three way standoff, each Texas staring suspiciously at the other two, and slowly settle. Jerk Texas's hat got knocked off. He retrieves it, looking sulky. Quiet Texas is still glaring at him. Almost Normal Texas looks annoyed with both of them.

“That was _so dumb_ you guys oughta be wearing braces,” he says scathingly, and Jerk Texas makes a hilariously offended noise. “Just stop freakin’ out!”

“Yeah, _dick_,” Quiet Texas says to Jerk Texas, who scowls back.

“Shut up!” he snaps. “Texas ain't freakin’ out, even if this is totally freaky and weird!”

“Aw come on!” Almost Normal Texas says, bouncing a little, his good mood rapidly reasserting itself. “Weird and _cool!_ We're like, awesome clones!”

“We're _pieces_,” Quiet Texas says, and when he crosses his arms over his chest it looks more like huddling into himself than a defiant gesture. “Texas got split in pieces. It doesn't _feel_ cool.”

“Chyeah?” Almost Normal Texas says, puzzled. “It totally does! And we just gotta stay cool until we snap back together!”

“Wait,” Chuck says sharply. “How do you guys know--you don't _know_ that, Texas, you can't just--”

“Uh, _yeah_, I totally do,” Almost Normal Texas says, frowning at Chuck.

“No you don't!” Chuck snaps, waving his arms. “A minute ago you thought you must have superpowers! You _just said_ you were confused!”

“Yeah, but we've_ got_ it now,” Almost Normal Texas says with a broad shrug. “We like… we were punchin’ and stuff, and there's like this… pull? Like magnets! When we're real close, like touchin’. So the machine turned us into awesome Texas magnets. Which means sometime we're gonna snap together!”

Quiet Texas shrugs and nods, and Jerk Texas is still glaring at everyone, but doesn't dispute it.

Chuck stares at the three of them, registering again the differences beyond wrong colors and missing hats. The way Quiet Texas is pulled in on himself, and Almost Normal Texas is open and expansive, shoulders back, and Jerk Texas has his arms out a little from his sides and his body canted forward like he's ready to move, charge, attack at any moment.

“You're _pieces_,” he repeats with waking fascination. “So--do you share the original’s memories? Why did the three of you come out different?”

Jerk Texas rolls his eyes. “Cuz we're _different pieces_, duh.”

“Yeah, we got memories!” Almost Normal Texas says. “Like the time I fought robo-dinosaur Kane and kicked his butt!”

Quiet Texas gives him a sideways look but doesn't say anything. Jerk Texas frowns at him. “Pssh, naw, that never happened.”

Almost Normal Texas snorts. “Maybe not for _you_, but _I_ remember it!”

“Yeah, no,” Chuck says. “That didn't happen.”

Almost Normal Texas gives him a sulky look. “Well, it totally coulda!”

Chuck is going to take a wild guess and say that piece got Texas’s imaginativeness.

“Yeah, that's not a real memory,” Jerk Texas says, “but we totally remember stuff! Like how Texas took out all those Kanebots last week and totally saved the street festival!”

Except for the minor detail that Texas only took out _some_ of the Kanebots and the other Burners got the rest, that's accurate. Chuck would say he _helped_ save the street festival. When Chuck looks over at Quiet Texas, though, he's frowning at the floor.

“Huh,” says Almost Normal Texas. “Texas doesn't really remember that.”

“Do you?” Chuck says to Quiet Texas, who shakes his head. “Interesting. What do you remember?”

Quiet Texas flicks a glance from the other two Texases to Chuck and shrugs, looking down again. “Stuff,” he mumbles.

Chuck blinks. “Okay, that's not really helpful. What _kind_ of stuff? Come on, this is the only way I can think of to find out how the main personality split, if that's what happened.”

Chewing on his lip, Quiet Texas looks up at Chuck. His hair is falling forward around his face, framing his high cheekbones, strong jaw, and dark uncertain eyes.

“Messed up Dutch's painting, couple days ago,” he says in a low voice, “and he got real mad. And I couldn't beat that Ultra-Golem last week, so Mike had to come save me, and Texas totally screwed up that thing with the Amazons before that, and Mike never likes my ideas, no one does cuz Texas isn't smart like you, and--”

“Shut _up!_” Jerk Texas says, scowling at him. “Okay so you're like the _lame_ part of Texas, got it. We can just leave you out when we go back together and Texas’ll be way cooler.”

“Both of you shut up,” Almost Normal Texas says, looking kind of edgy and uncomfortable. “You're bein’ a dick again,” he tells Jerk Texas, and then says to Quiet Texas, “and you're bein’... weird and junk. Quit it.”

Quiet Texas glares at both of them but doesn't bother to argue.

Chuck is kind of preoccupied being completely poleaxed, looking between the three of them. If he didn't know better he'd assume something extra got added to the mix with Quiet Texas, because it's surreal to imagine original flavor Texas hiding that level of insecurity--except it actually makes sense when Chuck thinks about it. Texas is so loud and brash, so insistent that he could've done any given thing better than whoever did it. He competes with Mike, subtly or not so much, which is an idiot’s game because it's _Mike_ and he's good at everything. Texas… basically wants to _be_ Mike, it seems like sometimes, and maybe he thinks continually falling short is why no one wants to follow his orders, or thinks he's cool, or likes him like they do Mike.

He doesn't realize he doesn't need to be _Mike_, he just needs to stop being a jerk. Chuck's eyes linger on Jerk Texas, who shifts and glares at him. Then he looks over at Quiet Texas, puzzled and intrigued by an earlier comment. He might regret asking, but he can't not.

“So, um,” Chuck starts, and has to swallow when his voice cracks. “You like me?”

Quiet Texas’s eyes go wide and he looks over at the other two Texases like he's hoping for hints or something. Jerk Texas glares at him with a fierce headshake, but to Chuck's shock, Almost Normal Texas slides a glance his way before sort of shrug-nodding.

That's considerably more positive than Chuck was expecting, but he's still not letting Quiet Texas get away with cheating on the answer. He crosses his arms and speaks up before Quiet Texas can open his mouth.

“I didn't ask _them_,” Chuck says pointedly. “I asked _you_.”

Quiet Texas hunches his thick shoulders, and instead of looking sulky he looks sort of… apologetic? Chuck isn't sure, he's never seen that look on Texas before.

“Yeah,” Quiet Texas mumbles. “I like you. You're funny and you think real fast and you make fun noises, and your hair looks all soft, and you're real cool when you're bein’ king, and--”

“Okay!” Chuck squeaks, holding up both hands, and Quiet Texas stops with a reluctant twist to his mouth that's all Texas. Unlike the stream of compliments, which are nothing like anything he'd expect to hear coming out of any part of Texas.

_Your hair looks soft_.

Chuck swallows and wrenches his gaze away from Quiet Texas, who for some reason is starting to look kind of flushed across the cheekbones. “Okay,” Chuck says, “but _he_ doesn't think any of that stuff.” He points to Jerk Texas, who keeps glaring and flexes threateningly, but doesn't say anything.

Quiet Texas shoots Jerk Texas an unimpressed sideways glance. “Yeah, he does.”

“No!” Chuck says. “He _just said _he thinks I'm an uncool nerd! You think I'm pathetic!” he snaps at Jerk Texas, and instead of sneering back or rolling his eyes or something, the guy kind of blinks at him, glare faltering.

“No he doesn't,” Almost Normal Texas says unexpectedly. He shrugs one shoulder when Chuck stares at him. “I mean, okay, like, you _totally are_ a nerd, 'kay, but you're not _pathetic_. You're a Burner! Burners are cool. So you gotta be cool! 'S just the way it is, Texas knows this stuff.”

Chuck stares at him a second before throwing his hands up in the air. “Wow, okay, well it sure would've been cool if Texas had let _me_ know anytime in the past _two years_ that you didn't actually hate my guts!”

“Huh?” Almost Normal Texas says, looking poleaxed. “No, what?”

“Texas doesn't hate your stupid guts,” Jerk Texas mutters, glaring at the floor.

“Well you sure do a good job _acting_ like it!” Chuck snaps. Breathing fast, he says, “Don't deny it, you laugh at me and chase me around, make fun of me, put me in headlocks--it's _fun_ for you, isn't it! You treat me like some kind of chew-toy!”

Almost Normal Texas frowns at him. “Texas doesn't _chew_ on--”

“It's a figure of speech!” Chuck says, glaring.

“Oh. It's just rough-housin’,” Almost Normal Texas mutters.

“Hah, yeah, no!” Chuck says. “Rough-housing is something you do with someone who can fight back! When you do it to someone who _can't_, that's called being a _bully!_”

It's almost intoxicating finally saying all this after being bitter over it for so long, assuming there would never be a point bitching at Texas about it because why would he care? Or even worse, if it pissed him off enough to come after Chuck like Chuck's hindbrain sometimes expects. Now there's _three_ of him, and instead of that putting Chuck in more danger from the guy, they seem less likely to come after him than ever before.

Almost Normal Texas… flinches. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and now his eyes are on the floor. “'S not what Texas meant.”

Chuck stares at him.

“Texas puts his arm around you sometimes,” Jerk Texas says unexpectedly, crossing his arms as he glares off to one side. “And like hugs you and junk.”

Chuck was expecting a huff and _Yeah, get over it already_, not… this. “Uh, yeah, like you do with everyone,” he points out, bewildered. “What, I was supposed to take that personally?” Although he's kind of lying because he _does_, it always gives him a weird little glow that Texas considers him enough part of the gang to treat him the same as Dutch or Mike.

“Uh, _yeah?_” Jerk Texas says in that huffy way.

Chuck looks from him to the other two Texases and back. Quiet Texas is nibbling on his lip, watching Chuck. Almost Normal Texas looks sort of sulky and unhappy. Jerk Texas's glare at the wall definitely looks defensive now.

“_You're_ the one I want an apology from,” Chuck tells him daringly.

Jerk Texas transfers the glare to Chuck, except it looks weirdly uncertain, searching. Chuck is waiting for him to say _screw you_ or something, and then he opens his mouth and says in a low voice, “Sorry. Wasn't tryin’ to be a bully, that's dumb. Texas is better'n that.”

Chuck is again reduced to staring. He would previously have put the likelihood of Texas _apologizing_ to _Chuck_ for being a jerk somewhere on the same level as 'Red gets bored of coming after Mike all the time and just quits’, or 'Kane doesn't attack for two weeks because he's distracted by actually taking care of Deluxe’.

“Oh,” he says after a minute, sort of faintly. “So, um.” He swallows. “Does that mean you're gonna stop? Not just the chasing and stuff, but like, laughing at me.”

“Okay but like, you make funny noises and junk,” Jerk Texas says, frowning. “How the heck is Texas not supposed to laugh?”

Chuck crosses his arms and glares. Yeah, this is more like what he was expecting.

“Cuz he doesn't _like_ it,” Quiet Texas says, scowling at Jerk Texas. “That's how.”

“Why don't you like it?” Almost Normal Texas asks Chuck. Both he and Jerk Texas look puzzled, like they just can't imagine why Chuck might not _enjoy_ being made fun of.

“You're not laughing at me because you think I'm cool and fun and a great guy,” Chuck says tightly. “You're laughing because I'm jumpy and lame and a stupid screaming coward.”

“Whoa, hey,” Almost Normal Texas says, wide-eyed. “That's like, _really_ not why. Not even close, dude.”

Disbelieving, Chuck looks over at Jerk Texas, who huffs at him. “Texas doesn't think you're any of that junk, geez!”

“Oh come _on_,” Chuck almost yells, waving his arms, “you _do_, I _know_ you do!”

“Well, maybe you don't know as much as you think!” Almost Normal Texas says in annoyance, cutting off whatever Jerk Texas was getting ready to say. Jerk Texas just nods emphatic agreement, glaring at Chuck.

“You're cool,” Quiet Texas says in a low voice, and drops his eyes when Chuck looks at him. That's so weird, Chuck just can't get used to it.

“Okay,” Chuck says, taking a deep breath, “if you _actually_ think I'm cool, what's with the--chasing me around and rough-housing, when you had to know I didn't like it?”

Jerk Texas is abruptly staring intently off to the side at the corner of the room, fiddling with the brim of his hat. Almost Normal Texas rolls his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Didn't know you minded_ that_ much,” he mutters, managing to meet Chuck's eyes.

“Plus,” Quiet Texas says, “how else is Texas supposed to--”

“Shut _up!_” Jerk Texas hisses.

“No!” Quiet Texas snaps back. “He already hates us, who cares? Not like it can get _worse_.”

“I don't _hate_ you,” Chuck points out. 

Quiet Texas gives him an uncertain look, but Almost Normal Texas is already nodding and grinning. “Yeah! See, 's all good, we're bros!”

He thinks they already _are_ friends. Of _course_; it's Texas. More specifically, it's the Texas who lives in a fantasy world inside his own head. The other two don't look nearly as sure, though Jerk Texas is staring at Chuck with unnerving intensity.

Frowning, Chuck looks back at Quiet Texas. “‘How else are you supposed to’--what? What were you going to say?”

Quiet Texas shrugs. “Supposed to get close to you,” he says, eyes somewhere around Chuck's sneakers. Jerk Texas pulls his hat brim low over his face. “You don't spar, don't wrestle, don't wanna feel Texas's muscles--everybody likes playin’ chase, Texas thought. Cuz Texas is _dumb_.”

Almost Normal Texas huffs, but doesn't deny any of it. Instead of growling at their counterpart for the insult, Jerk Texas peers out from under his hat brim at Chuck.

Chuck stares from one to another of them, his face warming. _Get close to you_, _your hair looks soft_\--holy crap, he's got to be misreading this somehow. “You were chasing and grabbing me and putting me in headlocks because it was the only way you could think of to _get your hands on me?”_ he says in disbelief.

Almost Normal Texas shrug-nods uncomfortably. Quiet Texas just nods. Jerk Texas is still staring intently at Chuck, but doesn't say anything to contradict him.

Chuck is starting to feel kind of… dizzy, ungrounded, like maybe he hit his head and this is all one massive hallucination brought on by a concussion. That definitely seems more likely than any variety of Texas trying to persuade Chuck that he--what, wants to _make out?_

On the other hand, the Duke actually exists despite the fact that he should be some kind of fever nightmare. And there was that time everybody got turned into zombies. So maybe Chuck needs to adjust his internal scale of believability.

If all three Texases are in agreement here, he realizes, that means they all remember those moments with Chuck, misadventures though they might be. How does that work? Are there some memories that are intense or multifaceted and complex enough that each Texas got them? Almost Normal Texas remembers it because he was having fun, maybe, and Jerk Texas because he was winning, being strong and aggressive, and Quiet Texas because maybe some part of Texas realized that Chuck wasn't having fun and worried about it?

“So you don't hate Texas,” Jerk Texas says abruptly, breaking into Chuck's thoughts.

“Wha--no, of course not,” Chuck says, frowning at him.

Jerk Texas tips his hat up and tilts his head to the side, eyeing Chuck in a way that unnerves him. “Okay so like. How do we get you to _like_ Texas?"

Chuck opens his mouth and closes it again, because what if he _is_ misinterpreting, what if Texas just means touching in a friendly way? "'Like', as in, um--" he starts.

“Like hot make-outs, that kinda ‘like’!” Jerk Texas says. “Texas gotta buy you dinner, bring you candy, what?”

“Oh my god,” Chuck says, face flaming.

“You can't _make_ someone like you,” Quiet Texas mutters. “He doesn't like us and he's not gonna.”

“I--could be persuaded,” Chuck hears himself say, and immediately wants to sink through the floor.

“Yeah?” Almost Normal Texas says, perking up. “Awesome!”

“So how?” Jerk Texas persists. “Does Texas gotta flex for you, or buy you a pizza, or blow you, or--”

“_What?_” Chuck shrieks.

“Uh,” Almost Normal Texas says, blinking at Jerk Texas.

Jerk Texas just frowns and repeats himself. “Does Texas gotta buy you a pizza or--”

“I heard that part!” Chuck says. He forces himself to take a breath and adds more coherently, “I _heard_ you, I just--are you serious?” He squeaks a little on that last bit, but he thinks it's understandable, really. “You _can't_ be serious! If you actually wanted to--do that, _he'd_ agree!” He flails a hand at Almost Normal Texas.

“Hey now,” Almost Normal Texas says, folding his arms, eyes sliding away from Chuck’s. “Texas didn't say he _doesn't_ agree, just, y’know, wasn't gonna like… say that. Yet.”

Chuck stares at him a minute, then, spurred by scientific curiosity and the giddy feeling that none of this is real, turns to Quiet Texas. “Okay,” he says in a high voice, “what's _your_ take on blowing me?”

Quiet Texas's eyes widen and he glances at the other two and back again, licks his lips. “Um. Yeah,” he says. “Like, Texas might not be _great_ at it, but--”

“Shut up, Texas is _awesome_ at it!” Jerk Texas says.

“He didn't ask _you_,” Quiet Texas says, glaring. “_You_ shut up, dick.”

Jerk Texas rolls his eyes, elaborately scornful, but Quiet Texas ignores him and turns back to Chuck.

“I totally would, if you wanted,” he says, and Chuck has absolutely no idea what to do with the look in his eyes. It's soft, shy, hopeful, painfully vulnerable, the kind of look that feels totally wrong coming from a guy like Texas.

What the hell is Chuck doing. What's even happening right now. He swallows, nods comprehension, looks back to the other two.

“Okay,” he says, not entirely steadily. “What if… I say yes. There are _three_ of you. What, um…”

“Texas--” Jerk Texas starts, then huffs and corrects himself, “_I'll_ blow you. They can do whatever.”

“Can Texas touch you?” Almost Normal Texas says, eyes fixed on Chuck.

“Uh!” Chuck squeaks, and glances at Jerk Texas and back. “I mean, _he's_ already--”

“Not your _dick_,” Almost Normal Texas says impatiently. “The _rest_ of you.”

Okay, that seals it, Chuck no longer has any idea what's going on. “I--maybe? It depends on, um, what you're trying to--”

“Okay but like you can work that junk out in a minute,” Jerk Texas says. “Are you sayin’ yes or what?”

Chuck looks from him, dark eyes intent, to Almost Normal Texas, jittering hopefully, to Quiet Texas, who's nibbling on his lip, watching Chuck. “Yeah,” Chuck sighs, giving in, “why not.”

Both the louder Texases whoop, and Quiet Texas ducks his head and grins.

“Awesome!” says Jerk Texas, who might need a different nickname now he's actually _apologized_ and everything. Then he lunges forward, grabs Chuck and swings him over one shoulder, ignoring Chuck's yelp, and _nope_, forget it, he's obviously correctly named! He takes three quick strides over to the couch and doesn't _quite_ drop Chuck on it, and then he's crouching on the floor between Chuck's knees, hands on the button of Chuck's jeans, and Chuck grabs his wrists because otherwise he's going to start hyperventilating, and just, no. He can't freak out right now.

“Slow down!” he says in a high voice.

“Why?” Jerk Texas says, frowning. “You _just said_\--”

“He just said we can try to get him to like us,” Quiet Texas interrupts, standing at Jerk Texas's shoulder. “He'll like you more if you do what he wants.”

Chuck opens his mouth, because that makes it sound like _he's_ being the pushy one here, but Jerk Texas just huffs and lets go of Chuck's waistband.

“Okay, so like, how slow we gotta go?” he asks.

Chuck gives a twitchy shrug. “_I_ don't know, you just--you can't just grab for my dick, is all!”

“So what should we do instead?” Almost Normal Texas asks, stepping up behind Jerk Texas. “Can Texas get your shirt off?”

“Uh!” Chuck squeaks, arms wrapping around himself protectively. “Why would you want to?”

“Cuz I wanna _touch_ you, like I said!” Almost Normal Texas says.

Chuck stares at him a minute, glances at the other two, licks his lips. “How about… you take yours off first.”

Almost Normal Texas blinks and then grins, looking pleased. “Yeah? You wanna see more of Texas?”

Chuck has to bite back the automatic sarcastic response, because when he's maybe about to have sex with the guy is not the time to eyeroll and pretend he's not actually into Texas's honestly impressive physique. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

“All of us?” Jerk Texas asks. “Or just him?”

Holy crap, this is actually happening. Texas is willingly taking direction from Chuck.

“All of you,” Chuck says, like he's sure of himself and definitely not pushing his luck.

“Cool,” Jerk Texas says, and Quiet Texas shrugs acquiescence, and he and Jerk Texas unzip their jumpsuits. Since Almost Normal Texas's is already tied around his waist, he just strips off the red tank top he's wearing under it, tossing it onto the other end of the sofa. It's quickly followed by a grey one and a white one, and then Chuck is faced with three bare-chested Texases, one of whom is still kneeling at his feet, resettling the hat over sleek black hair. It's. A lot. A lot of bare tan skin rippling over ridiculous amounts of muscle, a lot of intent dark eyes watching Chuck.

Almost Normal Texas shifts on his feet, flexing hopefully, and Chuck has to tear his eyes away from all the abs and shoulders on display. His face is burning.

“Okay,” Jerk Texas says, hands moving towards Chuck's jeans button again, “so _now_ can Texas--”

“_No_,” Quiet Texas says sharply, kneeing him in the ribs. “You gotta stop bein’ pushy, that's only gonna make him hate us again.”

Jerk Texas huffs at him but drops his hands and doesn't argue with the statement. Wow, that actually… makes Chuck's stomach do something weird and uncomfortable.

“I don't hate you,” he points out again, looking at Quiet Texas. “I never did, okay? You piss me off sometimes,” he admits, sliding a look back at Jerk Texas, “but I never _hated_ you.”

“Yeah?” Quiet Texas says uncertainly, and Chuck nods.

“Cool!” Almost Normal Texas says, cheerful and unconcerned. “So can we get your shirt off now?”

Chuck swallows hard, and his arms tighten around himself briefly, but then he straightens up and nods. Almost Normal Texas kind of lunges for him, then slows way down at a hiss from Quiet Texas, and peels Chuck's shirt off with almost amusingly delicate care. Once it's off, the temptation to huddle into himself and conceal as much as he can is intense, but Chuck sits on his hands, biting down on his lip and trying to breathe steadily. Any minute now Jerk Texas is gonna snort and say something about what a skinny wimp Chuck is--no, stop it, can't think like that if he wants to avoid a panic attack.

“Nice!” Almost Normal Texas says to Chuck's bewilderment, and flops down on the sofa beside him.

“Can Texas kiss you?” Quiet Texas says suddenly.

Chuck stares at him. “You… wanna kiss me?” he says stupidly.

Quiet Texas nods, eyes fixed on Chuck's face.

Okay, this just keeps not being what Chuck expects. Maybe he needs to throw out some of the assumptions he's running on, just for the moment. Like ‘Texas hates you’, which has been disproven but is reluctant to give way to something as unlikely as ‘Texas actually likes you and wants to jump you in a _completely different way_ than you'd assumed’.

“Okay,” Chuck says breathlessly. “Yeah, you can.”

Quiet Texas edges over to sit on Chuck's other side on the sofa and leans in, tilting his face up to meet Chuck's mouth. It's a tentative press of lips at first, and then Chuck tries just a little tongue and Quiet Texas makes this hoarse, hungry noise that sends a wave of heat through Chuck. Yeah, okay, more of that, Chuck's gonna make him make that noise again. Chuck deepens the kiss and Quiet Texas moans and does his best to reciprocate. Besides overenthusiasm, he's not as bad as Chuck kind of expected, and Chuck gets thoroughly distracted.

He remembers what else is going on when a hand lands on his back. “If he's kissin’ you, can I touch you?” Almost Normal Texas says.

Chuck pulls back from Quiet Texas and sucks in a deep breath. “Okay,” he says shakily, “okay, yeah.”

“Awesome!” Almost Normal Texas says, and Jerk Texas says, “So can Texas blow--”

“No!” Chuck squawks. “Not yet!” He stares down at Jerk Texas, half-naked on his knees, and thinks crazily, _Hey, why not_. “Why don't you make sure the door is shut,” he says, “and then you can get naked.”

“Oh!” Jerk Texas says, eyes widening, and instead of looking annoyed or resentful, he just looks Chuck over, skinny bare chest and tightening jeans and all, and nods, rolling to his feet. “Texas can totally do that, no problem!” he says, bouncing over to the door and pushing it shut. He fiddles with it for a minute, then huffs and picks up an armchair, shoving it up against the door. Then he comes back, looking triumphant.

“Door won't lock, but that oughta keep everybody out of Texas's way while he's gettin’ some sugar!”

“Nice!” Almost Normal Texas says, and then he's tugging Chuck back toward him on the couch, leaning forward when Chuck stays uncertainly stiff, and his chest is warm and firm against Chuck's back. One heavy arm slides around Chuck to rest a hand on Chuck's stomach right above the waist of his jeans, and he's suddenly even more aware of how tight those jeans are.

Quiet Texas moves forward and kisses Chuck again, ignoring Jerk Texas standing right there, and Almost Normal Texas strokes up over Chuck's ribs and chest and his palm goes _right_ over one nipple. Chuck squeaks and twitches, pulling back from the kiss, distracted from what's supposed to happen by what's actually happening.

“Whoa,” Almost Normal Texas says with interest, “huh!” Thick fingers grab and pluck and Chuck makes an incoherent noise, rigid and twitching.

“Wow,” Quiet Texas murmurs, leaning in for another kiss, pupils blown. Almost Normal Texas keeps messing with that one nipple, fingers almost too rough, and Quiet Texas hums softly against Chuck's lips, and Chuck's surrounded and overwhelmed but he's handling it and he's _fine_, he's got this, right up until Jerk Texas sighs loud and impatient.

Chuck flinches hard, jerks back from the kiss, hunches in on himself, arms crossing over his chest and pushing Almost Normal Texas's hand away. _Great, you've pissed him off_, says the nasty little voice in Chuck's head, _and now they're all gonna be mad because you're moving so slow, like a scared little wimp. You'll be lucky if they don't just shove you down and take what they want--_

No, no, stop. He sucks in a deep breath, forcing back the threatening hyperventilation.

“--Gonna be mad and _no_ one's gonna get any, so thanks for nothin’!” Almost Normal Texas is saying.

“Texas was tryin’ not to be pushy,” Jerk Texas mutters.

“Yeah, well you're really bad at it!” Almost Normal Texas tells him. “Geez!”

“He's not mad,” Quiet Texas says in a lower voice. “He's scared. You scared him.”

“Oh,” Almost Normal Texas says, and rests a careful hand on Chuck's back, stroking back and forth a little like he's seen how comfort is done but hasn't ever tried doing it himself.

“But Texas didn't even _do_ anything!” Jerk Texas protests.

“Yeah you _did_,” Quiet Texas snaps. “You got all huffy cuz he's kissin’ on us and not you!”

“Anyway, he told you to get naked,” Almost Normal Texas points out, “so do it already!”

“Yeah, but like, he's gotta watch, right?” Jerk Texas says. “Like there's no point if he's not even gonna _look!_”

“Okay,” Chuck says before they can keep arguing. “I'll look.” He raises his head, brushes his bangs out of the way to meet Jerk Texas's eyes. “But.” He takes another slow, careful breath. “If you want something, you have to be cool about it and just ask, you can't get impatient at me, that's not… that's not gonna do anything good.”

“Okay cool got it, so like, can you watch Texas now?” Jerk Texas says eagerly.

Chuck nods cautiously, wondering if the guy actually took any of that in, but then he's distracted because Jerk Texas is kicking off his shoes and shoving his unzipped jumpsuit down his hips, showing a pair of very small red briefs. It was clear before, but now it's _very_ obvious how interested he is in Chuck and in everything that’s going on.

Chuck swallows. “Take off your hat,” he says, not quite steadily.

Jerk Texas blinks, jumpsuit around his thighs, pulls off his hat and tosses it onto the tank tops. Then he shucks off his jumpsuit, kicking it off to the side. He looks back at Chuck, thumbs hooked in his tiny red briefs, and peels them down his hips and off.

Wow, yeah, okay, that's--that is in fact Texas's dick. All hard and tilted slightly to the left, and thank fuck, not proportional to Texas's shoulders. Like, Chuck is _aware_ that dicks aren't typically reflective of build and height and so on, but part of his brain was convinced Texas's dick would be the thickness of his wrist or something ridiculous like that, and even if he's just gonna jerk the guy off, the idea was intimidating. But it's not that big, it's normal, reasonable.

Licking his lips, he tears his eyes away to look at Jerk Texas's face, expecting a smirk or a preening look. Instead the guy's watching him with dark eyes, cheeks flushed, looking straight up _hungry_.

“Okay,” Chuck says, voice hoarse. “Now you can, um.” He gestures inarticulately, shifting around to face Jerk Texas, and pops the button of his jeans. Jerk Texas perks up like he just won a prize or something.

“Yeah, _Texas!_” he whoops, and dives forward, dropping to his knees to tug Chuck's pants open. He hooks Chuck's underwear down over his dick and Chuck lifts his hips helpfully as Jerk Texas hauls everything down to Chuck's knees.

It's enough to make Chuck feel really exposed, or it would be if Jerk Texas didn't immediately grab for Chuck's dick and _lick his lips_ looking at it. “Heck yeah,” he says, and then his mouth is on it, his hand working underneath, squeezing a little and stroking, and it's suddenly pretty tricky to think about anything but how good that feels.

“Heck yeah,” Almost Normal Texas agrees in a lower voice, and leans in to kiss the side of Chuck's neck, which makes him gasp and shiver. Quiet Texas leans forward a little, watching Chuck cautiously, and what he's waiting for is obvious, so Chuck turns his head and kisses him.

Jerk Texas isn't _highly_ skilled at giving a blow job, but he does actually know what he's doing, to Chuck's mild surprise. Almost Normal Texas is sucking on Chuck's neck now, probably leaving marks, which Chuck would normally object to except that it feels _great_. Quiet Texas kisses with eager determination.

Chuck is caught between the three of them, shivering, moaning at what they're doing. He would never have guessed Texas could do this to him, even three Texases.

“We’ll make you feel real good,” Almost Normal Texas mumbles against Chuck's ear, and licks it, making him squeak. “Show you how cool Texas is.”

Chuck just whimpers in response, and Quiet Texas makes a hungry noise and kisses him harder. Almost Normal Texas puts a hand on Chuck's chest again, playing with one nipple and then the other, and Chuck gives up on coherent thought for a while.

When he comes, it's with a choked gasp, shivering apart under their hands and mouths. Jerk Texas makes a triumphant noise and strokes him through the aftershocks until he whimpers and squirms.

“Dang,” Quiet Texas breathes, and licks his lips. “You're _so_ hot.”

Chuck makes a shaky noise. Jerk Texas pulls his hand away and scrubs the back of it across his mouth.

“Heck yeah you are!” he says. “Hey, it's gotta be Texas's turn now, right?”

Still panting, Chuck studies him a minute, then the other two. Almost Normal Texas is kind of leaning on Chuck's side, one hand resting distractingly on his chest. Quiet Texas is watching Chuck with a hungry look.

“Yeah,” Chuck says slowly. “It's definitely Texas's turn. _This_ Texas,” he adds, meeting Quiet Texas's eyes, which widen.

“Aww, but _I'm_ the one that just got you off!” Jerk Texas says.

“Hey!” Almost Normal Texas says sharply. “Don't screw it up again! We gotta be _cool_, dude!”

“And like, there's three of us,” Quiet Texas puts in. “And one of him, so it's not really fair if he's gotta get us _all_ off, right?”

“Oh, huh,” Almost Normal Texas says at the same time as Jerk Texas says, “Wait, so like, we don't all get to get off?”

“Only if he's cool with it,” Quiet Texas says stubbornly, shooting a cautious sideways look at Chuck.

Chuck likes this Texas. He should stay. Jerk Texas can go, but this one is great.

“I'll get you off,” he tells Quiet Texas, and turns to the other two, “and you guys can get each other off, while I watch. Okay?”

“Yeah?” Almost Normal Texas says, and licks his lips. “You wanna watch Texas?”

“Course he does!” says Jerk Texas, kneeling up to punch the other one in the shoulder. “What's sexier than one Texas gettin’ off except _two_ Texases?”

“Heck yeah!” says Almost Normal Texas, punching him back. “I mean, like, it's kinda weird? But it'll be super sexy for sure.”

“It's not weird,” Chuck says, “it's just you getting yourself off. You're probably pretty good at that, right?”

“You bet!” Jerk Texas says, flexing his biceps. “Texas is _awesome_ at it!”

“Yeah,” Almost Normal Texas says, eyeing Jerk Texas. “So, uh, who goes first, you or us?”

Chuck looks them over, Jerk Texas naked and flagrantly interested, Almost Normal Texas bare-chested, his jumpsuit tight at the crotch. Then Chuck looks at Quiet Texas, dark eyes wide and uncertain on him.

“Me,” Chuck says, looking Quiet Texas up and down. “You wanna take your clothes off for me?”

“Okay,” Quiet Texas says breathlessly, and basically tears his jumpsuit off, kicking his shoes across the room. It's really flattering, actually.

“Nice,” Chuck says, pulling his own pants and underwear back up, and pushes Quiet Texas over on his back on the couch. He goes easily enough, staring at Chuck, and Chuck pushes in between his legs and goes down on him. Quiet Texas lets out a shaky groan and Chuck is expecting him to buck up into his mouth, but instead the guy's hips twitch and tremble and that's it. It's kind of appealing, how careful he is, and Chuck puts all his considerable skill to work on blowing Quiet Texas's mind.

He sort of expects to be done in a couple minutes, but Quiet Texas holds on for long enough to make Chuck wonder if he's done this before. Of course, then when he comes he looks stunned enough to make Chuck doubt it, which is really cute.

"_Whoa_," Quiet Texas gasps, shivering through an aftershock, and then sits up and tugs Chuck clumsily up to kiss him, heedless of the taste. He's kind of grabby, pulling Chuck practically into his lap to wrap himself around him and kissing Chuck's jaw and neck and shoulder when Chuck's mouth is out of reach.

Chuck squeaks a little to find himself entwined with an enthusiastically-cuddling naked Texas, but there's no groping or grinding. After the kisses, Quiet Texas just kind of… clings and breathes, his fingers digging into Chuck's back a little.

Chuck sits there blinking for a moment, and then cautiously reaches up and strokes Quiet Texas's ungelled hair. It's not as smooth as it normally looks, but silkier than he expected.

Quiet Texas makes a low noise and nudges his head up into Chuck's hand. Charmed despite himself, Chuck keeps petting.

"Hey!" Jerk Texas bursts out. "That's _totally_ not cool, Texas wants kissin' and junk too!"

"You want me to kiss you?" Chuck says, staring. By this time he really shouldn't be surprised, and yet he still is.

"Uh, _chyeah!_" Jerk Texas says.

"And me," Almost Normal Texas adds hopefully.

"Right," Chuck says. "Uh. Okay. One kiss, then. You first," he tells Jerk Texas, because he did speak up first, even if Chuck wants to make him wait.

"_Awesome!_" Jerk Texas says, and bounces up to his feet to lean over and kiss Chuck as Quiet Texas reluctantly makes room. Chuck isn't sure if it should be a surprise or not that Jerk Texas kisses almost exactly the same as Quiet Texas. He's breathing just as hard when he pulls back, too.

"Me now!" Almost Normal Texas says, and grabs Chuck's shoulders to kiss him just as clumsily as the others.

"Good," Chuck says when he pulls away. "Now the two of you can go ahead and get each other off."

"Right," Almost Normal Texas says, and frowns determinedly at Jerk Texas, who gives him a fierce grin.

"So, you gonna get it out so Texas can blow your mind?" Jerk Texas says.

"Yeah, except Texas is gonna blow _your_ mind," Almost Normal Texas says, shoving his jumpsuit down around his thighs, followed by the same little briefs, except black. Chuck is curious now what color the real Texas's briefs are, which isn't something he ever thought he'd wonder about before.

Jerk Texas licks his hand and grabs Almost Normal Texas's dick like it might get away if he's not fast enough, and Almost Normal Texas makes a strangled sound and grabs Jerk Texas's. Chuck watches in fascination as they start stroking. It looks like they're trying to compete, which is only to be expected, but they keep getting distracted by how good it feels, hands hitching and slowing, and then the other one makes an annoyed noise, making the first redouble his efforts, and then the _other_ one gets distracted--

It's a good show is all Chuck's saying. Even Jerk Texas is surprisingly cute when he's overwhelmed by pleasure, cheeks flushed, panting mouth open. Almost Normal Texas looks good too, muscles flexing and shivering as he rocks into the hand on him.

By the time Jerk Texas comes with a hoarse grunt, Chuck's face is hot and his underwear are feeling tight again. Almost Normal Texas makes a breathless triumphant noise and pulls his hand away, wiping it off on the thigh of his jumpsuit, hips twitching up into Jerk Texas's still hand.

Chuck licks his lips and shifts in his seat as Jerk Texas clumsily starts stroking again, and a minute later Almost Normal Texas groans and jerks, thick-muscled limbs quivering in orgasm.

Quiet Texas shifts, drawing away from Chuck, who glances over--

The couch is empty beside him. Quiet Texas is gone.

Chuck's heart skips a beat in stupid alarm, and then he hastily looks back to the other two just in time to see Almost Normal Texas vanish, and Jerk Texas's form waver indistinctly before firming again and collapsing onto the floor. His jumpsuit is back to its normal colors, down around his thighs, and his tanktop and hat are lying on the end of the couch.

Chuck breathes in slow and careful. Right, well, that took care of his returning hard-on. He distractedly fastens his pants, wishing he'd put his shirt back on.

Obviously the effect of that weird machine has worn off, so original Texas is back now and everything is fine. The sense of loss making a hollow place in Chuck's chest is just dumb, and he knows it. That doesn't actually help, though. He _liked_ Quiet Texas, and now he's gone, that sweetness and uncertainty hidden under all the rest of the guy.

"Oh, dang," Texas groans. "Did Texas pass out? That was the weirdest dream--" He pushes himself up to his knees, glances over at the couch, sees Chuck and freezes. "Uh."

"It wasn't a dream," Chuck says, unnecessarily by the look on Texas's face. "There were three of you."

"Huh," Texas says, staring wide-eyed at Chuck. "Uh, I mean. That--the lame one wasn't Texas, though, he was just pretendin', Texas isn't lame like that guy--"

"Too bad," Chuck says recklessly. "I liked him."

"Oh! Yeah?" Texas licks his lips, finally bothering to pull his briefs and jumpsuit up over his hips. "Does that mean you like Texas now?"

Chuck pauses, staring. He assumed that when Texas went back to normal, he'd _be normal_, and not care about what Chuck thought of him, but Texas is acting a lot less like Jerk Texas than expected, and more like… like Quiet Texas isn't gone at all.

"Cuz you said if Texas blew you," Texas goes on doggedly, and Chuck interrupts in a yelp.

"Yes! You persuaded me, I like you now!"

"_Awesome!_" Texas says, chopping at the air victoriously, and bounces to his feet. "So that means you're gonna do more kissin' with Texas, right? Can I kiss you more?"

Chuck blinks at him, noticing the tinge of uncertainty under the hope and loudness, Quiet Texas lurking under the surface. "Maybe," Chuck says. "Do you remember the stuff I want you to quit doing?"

Texas frowns. "No rough-housin', Texas can't laugh even when you make funny noises, don't get all pushy and junk," he says, and nods firmly. "See, Big Texas got this. Now can we do kissin'?"

Chuck didn't expect him to have cared enough to remember any of that, much less all of it. He opens his mouth and lets out a stupid little squeaky giggle of shock.

"Okay! Yes, let's, we can do that."

"Yeah, _Texas!_" Texas says, and dives for Chuck. He seems to have gotten better at kissing in the last fifteen minutes, unless original Texas was more skillful than the parts of him, which seems unlikely. Chuck wonders vaguely if Texas could've picked up tips from the kisses his component pieces got from Chuck, and then gets distracted enough to lose the thought.

Someone tries to open the door, which thumps against the armchair pushed against it. Shrieking, Chuck jerks back from Texas, staring wildly at the closed door.

"Guys?" says Mike's voice through the door. "Chuck? Everything okay in there?"

"Yes!" Chuck yelps, and goes scrabbling for his shirt, pulling it over his head and ignoring Texas's disappointed noise. "Everything's fine, we're good, we're cool!" He hastily yanks his pants straight and gets them fastened.

"Yeah, it's cool," Texas calls, going over to the door and wrestling the armchair away. "Texas just got a new superpower for a while there and totally seduced Skinny, so he's gonna be my boyfriend now!" He looks over at Chuck hopefully. "Right?"

Chuck stares back, half in outrage and half in shock, and doesn't manage an answer before Mike pushes the door open.

"Uh, okay, Texas," Mike says, grinning. He doesn't even blink at Texas being half-naked, but his eyes round and his mouth drops open when he turns to Chuck, which is when Chuck realizes his shirt is on inside out, and his hair is a rumpled mess, and his lips are probably all flushed from kissing.

"Ahaha hi Mike!" he says, panicking.

"Hhhi, Chuck," Mike says slowly, looking between him and Texas, wide-eyed. "So! Superpowers?"

"_No_," Chuck groans, "there were no superpowers, okay?! There was some weird… stuff, effects from that machine, but Texas is fine now and everything's okay."

"And you’re--" Mike starts.

"And we're not boyfriends!" Chuck says before Mike can get it out, and glares at Texas. "You can't just _announce _someone is your boyfriend when you haven't even asked him yet!"

Mike blinks at him as Texas goes, "Aww, lame!"

"So you're, you guys are…" Mike says.

"It's not lame, that's being pushy again!" Chuck points out hotly, carefully ignoring Mike's implicit question. "You said you weren't gonna do that!"

Huffing, Texas crosses his arms, and Chuck is braced for an argument about how that totally doesn't count as pushiness when Texas says, "Fine! So are you gonna? Texas is the _best_ boyfriend, check out this hunk of beef." He flexes, posing hopefully.

Chuck has to admit it's a much more effective tactic when Texas is shirtless. Ripping his gaze from all those bulging muscles, Chuck licks his lips and glances involuntarily at Mike. Is it going to make things weird with the team if Chuck does try to date Texas? Worse, will it make things weird with _Mike?_ Chuck doesn't want to risk that, ever, but he _is_ interested in more sex with Texas, since that seems to be on offer, and if Mike doesn't like it or thinks it'll mess things up--

Mike's astonished look changes into a grin. He gives Chuck a double thumbs up and an encouraging nod.

"We can date," Chuck tells Texas with an attempt at dignity, "and you can take me out for dinner a few times-_-not_ at Silva's Snack Shack," he adds as Texas opens his mouth, "I hate that place. Somewhere _good_. And then I'll be your boyfriend."

Texas whoops in triumph and lunges for Chuck, scooping him up and whirling him around without regard for the yelping or the flailing limbs.

"Hey, that's awesome, guys!" Mike says.

"Heck yeah it is!" Texas says, then puts Chuck down and kisses him exuberantly.

Chuck is still recovering from that when Texas says, "Alright, Daddy Texas gotta get some stuff done, you guys, can't just hand out sugar all day!" He detours by the sofa to grab his hat, but doesn't bother with either his tanktop or his shoes before plunging on out the door, leaving the rec room infinitely quieter.

Chuck licks his lips and attempts a normal kind of smile at Mike, aware that it's not terribly successful.

"I was gonna ask you to come take a look at Mutt with me and Dutch," Mike says, grinning at him, "but I dunno, you look like you might be kind of distracted right now, buddy."

"What? No!" Chuck says, and huffs. "I'm _fine_, bro, I can focus! I'm--it's--I'm good, everything's fine!"

"Oh, well, if you're good _and_ fine," Mike says solemnly, and Chuck elbows him. "Seriously though, dude, you and Texas? I didn't know you were into him!"

"Into--why is _that_ the surprising part?" Chuck demands, carefully leaving out, _especially because I'm into _all_ of you_. "Did you know he was into _me?_"

"I mean, not for sure, I guess," Mike says, "but come on, Chuckles, it makes sense. I mean, who wouldn't be into you, you're great!" Before Chuck can gape at him or explode or overthink that, Mike goes on, "But I thought Texas kinda bugged you. Is this, y'know… cool?" He gives Chuck a concerned look. "He didn't, like--"

"No, he didn't bully me into it," Chuck says, touched despite himself. "Like that would work."

"Okay," Mike says, reassured. "So, you're--okay. Cool." He bumps his shoulder into Chuck's. "Come down to the garage, Dutch has an idea he wants to run by us."

"Cool," Chuck says, and they head down the hall side by side.

"Man, you and _Texas_," Mike says, shaking his head. "Crazy. I mean, cool! I hope it goes okay! Just, wow."

"Texas isn't so bad," Chuck says, with an attempt at a casual shrug. "It just takes a lot to get him to show his sensitive side."


End file.
